Happy Anniversary to Me, Revisited

Yesterday was my anniversary of the operation. I was tired and said I'd post more about feelings on the whole operation journey today.

Perhaps weary is a better word instead of tired. I think there's a distinction between the terms.

So how does it feel to go from around 450 pounds to 270?

I don't know if I could ever put it into words that would properly convey what it's like for me. I've had to change so many habits and views in order to adapt to my weight changes and dietary restrictions that it's a very difficult thing to adequately put into terms that normals would understand.

The absolute most interesting thing in the surgery that I experienced only lasted a few weeks. Right after the surgery, as the stomach and intestine were healing, I had no hunger. Not just "not hungry", but my head was totally divorced from the feeling of wanting to eat.

I could look at the most sensational cakes, most mouth watering pizza, the most alluring tray of peanut butter and chocolate eggs and most aromatic array of deli delights, and fully experience all of the senses aside from taste in order to be drawn to these items, but I had absolutely no desire to eat them. Rather, I wanted to smell them. And I could smell them. I could pick out individual ingredients in mixtures of foods from smell, rather than just having the glut of a lump "food" hit my nose. I was surviving on a liquid diet of jello or some rather crappy broth and I didn't mind it one bit.

It was the most unusual sensation I ever had.

Of course as things healed up, my old hunger returned, my habit eating, all of that started to slowly creep back in. But for the first month of that recovery I had truly experienced how driven we are as a sentient being to the desires of chemical reactions in our heads and nerve triggers in the stomach and digestive system. If we could find a way to regain that sensation using just some miracle pill...wow.

I don't know if this is what it's like for normals; to see something that you absolutely love to eat, your favorite food, and have no desire whatsoever to taste it. To see it as an abstract thing that's just there instead of as a thing to be consumed.

I can't get clothes that fit. I guess I can, but they feel alien. I like my baggier clothes. I suppose part of me fears what would happen if I spent money on stuff that's supposed to be "my size." I guess it makes me look a little strange sometimes, with pants that flap in the breeze around my ankles. I sometimes wear socks covered in diabetic socks for additional cushioning in my shoes when the weather allows it. I still prefer going to the Salvation Army to look for pants that may fit me, and when I get shirts or items that my wife says are the "proper" fit, they feel too tight and constrictive, and I frequently worry that the seams are going to rip apart if I move the wrong way.

One change that has persisted involves how I view food and drink. I can't have anything that is primarily sugar or I risk getting very ill...I've pushed that boundary, barely, before, and it's not pleasant. I primarily wanted to see if the bariatric surgery had actually changed the way my stomach worked, and it did. I was told that I absorb sugars faster than before so I have to limit my sugar intake, and consequently most of my meals contain very little sugar and additives. Fortunately my own quirky nature means I don't mind having a repetitive diet while most people would balk at the notion of eating similar foodstuffs every day. Most bariatric patients have to carefully adapt to a "normal" diet, sans sugary stuff or carbonated stuff, in far smaller quantities. I just sort of adopted a few select items that I like and have those on a regular basis.

After the surgery I had to cut out the sweets, the carbonation, and in many cases the pre-packaged. I had to eat what health nuts always said was "healthier" for me, in portions we are supposed to eat but rarely do.

I also read about diets and the food industry. I started reading a lot. And it didn't paint a pretty picture.

The more I found out about what goes into fast food and prepackaged food, the less I really missed it. I didn't stop having the occasional hunger pang for it once in awhile, but I also know that it's not all that great for me if I did have it. You know, the zebra cakes, the cosmic brownies, the chain restaurant pizza, the huge portions of Mexican fare at Chevy's...mmm...fried artery clogging goodness! Unless you read the books that discuss what happens when you eat high fructose corn syrup or the burgers at various fast food joints doused in fats, artificial additives and sodium.

I'm still overweight. Probably still classified as obese. But I'm eating "healthier" than I ever have before.

I still see myself as the fat guy. I still avoid sitting in anything that doesn't look like it could support the weight of an F-150. I'll stand around sooner than sit on furniture risks a sudden snap or crack followed by the fat guy rolling on the ground like an abandoned turtle.

There are a few moments where I think I'm doing something that a year ago I wouldn't be doing. I remember walking the mall and feeling just plain wiped out afterwards; today, not so much. I am actually asking others to do more walking or moving around and they're griping that they don't want to.

I also tend to be a little more judgemental of people who indulge in the laziness that I use to wallow in. People who pull into a Quik-E-Mart and park as close to the door as possible, sometimes in spots that aren't even parking spots, so they don't have to cross any farther than they absolutely must to get to the doors. I wonder how many people are riding in those motorized carts at Wal-Mart because they couldn't be bothered to have listened to their doctor when they were told they needed to cut back on their food and lose weight. I see people eating the entire portion they're handed at restaurants and wonder if there are any ethical restaurant owners willing to feel even the slightest bit of remorse for their contribution to the obesity epidemic in America.

I am curious about people that are nearly too overweight to walk on their own power, or are in scooter carts, or have clear difficulty moving and yet are carrying pre-packaged fried fats or are indulging in a tray of fast food easily hitting a thousand calories in one meal. That was me...I could easily polish half a large pizza, if not the whole pizza, if I wanted to in one sitting. Although now if I ate two slices I'd probably regurgitate it or, not achieving that, lay in a puddle of pain for an hour or two as it slowly slithers through what's left of my stomach. Horrible agonizing pain. I guess I'm curious in that I'm fascinated with those people having been me at one point, so now I'm seeing myself through a slightly different set of eyes.

There's also the skin. I avoid seeing myself in the mirror as much as possible because I look horrible with the free-hanging skin. Large flaps hang under my arms, and my abdomen looks like it's melting in slow motion. If I move too quickly the flesh flops around and risks giving me a concussion. Consequently I keep a shirt on as much as possible, and usually try to wear shirts with sleeves long enough to contain my upper arms under fabric rather than leaving them free to slap around. The skin, along with the long thick scar in my midsection, are macabre reminders of my lifetime transgressions involving food and gluttony.

Bright spot: sometimes I can feel muscle in my legs now.

I've lost some weight. I'm pretty sure I should lose more. I've been fortunate in that side effects have been minimal; sometimes, yeah, I have discomfort after meals. It's a new signal to say, "Hey, Jackass, stop eating!" It doesn't happen often and it's minimal, lasting all of five to ten minutes. And it is less pain and more discomfort, and as long as it's just discomfort I guess I'm doing okay.

I'm still unsure of myself at times. I'm still having issues with my own image, and I am deathly afraid of regaining the weight. I've failed to lose weight too many times to think that this is a permanent fix.

I'll know more after my one-year followup next week...